


Summer of 1939

by limeta



Series: Fixing the Timeline One Punch at a Time [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Children, Adoption, Ariana Dumbledore Lives, BAMF Bathilda Bagshot, Family, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Feel-good, Found Family, Gen, Good Gellert Grindelwald, Good Tom Riddle, Languages, Parent-Child Relationship, Parseltongue, Past Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Professor Albus Dumbledore, Single Parents, Weirdness, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 09:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limeta/pseuds/limeta
Summary: Gellert Grindelwald adopted Tom Riddle. Summer before his second year was odd for them both, especially because neither wizard knew what being a father or a son meant. They learned as they went.





	Summer of 1939

Tom Riddle and Gellert Grindelwald arrived in front of a house that looked ancient. This was rude to say so Tom Riddle didn’t say it. Nevertheless he hoped that it would be better looking inside.

‘’Come on, let’s go meet my aunt.’’ Gellert sounded weary.

When the doors opened with a creak a shout could be heard: ‘’I will skin this man alive, Gellert! He thinks he can just come here – a toddler of 75 years of age – to tell ME what happened 90 years ago? Which one of us lived it, Gellert? WHICH one of us lived through the great Revolution of the 19th century in Iceland?’’

‘’Auntie, could we not talk about your many academic enemies, please.’’ Gellert called out. ‘’You know you only get worked up needlessly.’’ Tom heard heavy, raging footsteps clambering down the stairs to the foyer where Gellert ushered them both inside. Behind them the door closed magically.

An eldritch woman came down the steps. Her hair was long and billowing like waves in moonlight. She had taken out her wand and was waving it around. ‘’I am this close,’’ she shot at the ceiling and Tom Riddle’s eyes widened at the sign of violence, inching back wisely ‘’this close to doing something spectacularly deviant to that man!’’

‘’Auntie Bathilda, may I remind you that doing illegal things will lead to imprisonment.’’ Gellert said slowly and tiredly, having said this exact phrase many a time. Tom did not know if this old woman would be a similar figure in his life akin to Mrs. Cole or if she was a kinder figure. Now she just seemed criminally inclined.

‘’Ha!’’ Bathilda Bagshot laughed heartily, ‘’That is just something I used to tell you because you were not as well connected as I am, dear nephew-mine. I have at least seven Blacks and two Malfoys indebted to me over this and that.’’

‘’This is a stellar example you’re setting for my ward.’’ Gellert placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder and pushed him to the forefront, finally introducing him.

Bathilda Bagshot, beloved great-aunt, had this to say when Gellert Grindelwald came to her doorstep with Tom Riddle in tow and announced that this was his son now: _''YOU_ SLEPT WITH A _WOMAN_?!''

Tom Riddle craned his head to look up to Gellert Grindelwald and saw him cringe at his aunt's wonderfully misplaced words.

''No,'' he said, very awkwardly, ''I didn't.''

Bathilda nodded and corrected herself, obviously remembering that there was only one way for her nephew to conduct this experiment: ''YOU USED _DARK MAGIC_ TO MAKE HIM!'

''No, Aunt Bathilda, please let me explain –''

''Of course, my apologies, there is only one _true_ way of you obtaining an heir worthy of your mighty and pompous self, nephew: _YOU CLONED YOURSELF_!''

Bathilda Bagshot was a writer first and only then was she a human being capable of coherent thought and reasonable deduction.

Tom Riddle was finding this exchange more and more comical as his guardian tried explaining the means of adoption to the woman. His lips tugged to a small, bewildered smile.

‘’Auntie,’’ He whispered, horrified, ‘’I adopted him!’’

‘’Are you sure you haven’t absconded with him simply?’’ Bathilda wouldn’t put it past her nephew to simply take a child off the street if he thought it would further some of his goals in life.

The formidable woman turned to Tom Riddle, peered at him closely (as if looking straight into his soul (later Tom will learn of legilimency)), and asked: ‘’What about it, lad, did my nephew kidnap you?’’

‘’Auntie-‘’ Gellert was beyond horrified at this point.

Tom Riddle schooled his face into deep thought to mirror Bathilda’s look of focus. Finally, after a moment, he said: ‘’No, _I_ decided to come here with him.’’

‘’All right then.’’ Bathilda curtly nodded and introduced herself: ‘’Bathilda Bagshot. You are?’’

Tom Riddle was too enraptured by the mere thought of being in the presence of his favourite authoress to find words capable of describing his self. Those words ‘Tom Riddle’ were lost eons into the abyss as his mind jumbled together to piece together a puzzle outstretching in his mind that shouted, no – bellowed: THE AUTHORESS OF _HOGWARTS:A HISTORY_!

His eyes must have been very wide because Gellert, his guardian, decided to help him out: ‘’His name’s Tom Riddle. Possibly going to change that, possibly not.’’

Bathilda must have caught on because she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially: ‘’Would you like to see the first draft of the damned thing? I’ve still got some of the grimoires used for my sources lying around.’’

Tom nodded his head without remembering that he wanted to. Slowly his body trailed after Bathilda’s slow and steady footsteps.

Gellert exhaled, watching them both go and peruse his aunt’s vast library.

Things were going well. As well as they could.

* * *

Bathilda liked Tom, or so she told Gellert after Tom had gone to bed. They sat around in her living room, near the unlit fireplace. Then they talked, as aunt and nephew did.

‘’This was impulsive.’’ Bathilda told him. ‘’You’ve barely kept a fish alive with self-sufficient charms in place.’’

‘’You mean to tell me, kindly, that I’m not cut out to be a father?’’

‘’Oh preposterous thought! I don’t mean to tell you anything. Time will show.’’

Gellert Grindelwald looked at his aunt and thought that maybe he should really consider moving to a flat with his ward.

* * *

Gellert had a difficult relationship with Albus, mostly because the man made everything difficult when it needn’t be. He went to the Dumbledore residence often, and not for Albus’ sake. He saw Ariana sitting out front and knitting some very nice socks that were much too hot for the summer. She waved him over.

‘’I hear you’ve got a son.’’ Her magic twisted around him, powerful and untamed – yet calmer than in her youth. All magic settled, for some it merely took longer time to process many things. Ariana had a lot of things to process and sometimes, in her darker moments, her magic would burst with jagged needles that all of the people in her life had become used to defending against. She was much more predictable now than in her youth.

Gellert conjured a seat to sit next to Ariana and asked her if she could knit him some smaller socks. Ariana shrugged, continued knitting, and finally said that she could.

Ages ago, Gellert had found her near a tree in Godric’s Hollow, her favourite spot, and it was she that asked him if he would return day after day. Gellert had, what with having nothing better to do, and friendship bloomed between them first. Only then, much later would Albus and Aberforth show themselves as protective brothers worried for their sister and her foreign companion.

When people re-told the story they always assumed that Albus and Gellert had met each other first. They always forgot Ariana and the tree near Godric’s Hollow.

‘’What’s he like?’’

‘’Quiet. Wary. His magic is unsettled with change.’’

Tom Riddle spoke less often than Gellert had anticipated. Guardedly he chose his words, mindful that perhaps he would overstay his welcome if he said too much in too little time. These things could not be overcome with words, only slowly overcome by building trust with one another.

‘’Like I was?’’ Ariana questioned. She rarely looked people in the eye, finding it difficult to think and hold conversation whilst thinking about people and their societal expectations.

‘’No, oh no – not at all. You nearly eviscerated us with your magic by accident on multiple occasions. Tom just has a lot to unlearn.’’

‘’Like you then.’’ Ariana concluded and no amount of begging-to-differ from Gellert could persuade her to change her mind. His parents had not been the most forthcoming and open-minded people growing up.

From inside the residence emerged Albus, his hair tied back in a loose pony-tail. ‘’What are you doing here?’’

Gellert coughed to clear his throat: ‘’I’m here to see my best friend.’’

Ariana beamed at the title, even decades after having it.

Albus scowled a tad and said that he didn’t know what Gellert was thinking by adopting Tom Riddle. ‘’There is something off about him.’’

‘’Of course. He’s a child.’’ Gellert said. ‘’There’s always something off about children wherever you look.’’

‘’Abe liked to fuck goats.’’ Ariana supplied unhelpfully. ‘’Do you remember, Al, he had that goat when he was fourteen?’’

Gellert had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop his stifled laugh. Albus closed his eyes and sighed, _deeply_.

Ariana knew exactly what she was doing when she batted her eyelashes and asked: ‘’Oh, is it something I’ve said? I’m not wrong, am I?’’

‘’No,’’ Gellert laughed, ‘’no, my dear Ana, you aren’t.’’

Ariana’s nickname by her brothers was Ari, but her best friend always called her Ana.

‘’I would like to meet him.’’ Ariana said, resolutely. She set aside her socks and smiled widely.

Albus tried, in his limited knowledge, to describe Tom Riddle: ‘’He’s a little twat.’’

‘’Oh,’’ Ariana looked up at her older brother and the smile grew even more, ‘’like you, then?’’

Gellert didn’t stop that laugh from booming.

* * *

Tom Riddle drafted a letter to write to Abraxas Malfoy (the first pureblood and the only Slytherin to actually see Tom’s use as he elected him his tutor) because going to Professor Dumbledore’s home had to be worth everyone’s while and Tom felt the utter and complete need to just shout from the heavens.

Students, as a rule, didn’t think that their professors lived anywhere else aside from their classrooms. So this was very important information and reconassaince work that Tom would be doing.

He knew that his guardian had history with Albus Dumbledore, but he was told that they weren’t going to visit because of him. ‘’You see him enough at Hogwarts. Albus thinks he’s important, but he’s really just entitled. I used to call that feature charming until it grew on my nerves far too much.’’

Tom nodded as if he understood the intricate inter-personal dynamics of adults that had fallen out of love. He was twelve and he knew his limits.

Ariana Dumbledore was a marvellous sight of bohemian joy. She leaned in her chair and propped her legs up on the fence lining the front porch of the home and said: ‘’Szia!’’

Tom Riddle cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

‘’Szia!’’ Gellert called out, beyond thrilled to hear the word.

‘’What’s that mean?’’ Tom Riddle asked, having figured out that the woman was not saying ‘see ya’.

‘’Hello in Hungarian.’’ Gellert explained. Yes. Tom knew that his guardian often whispered things in Hungarian how Tom did in Parseltongue. Unlike parseltongue, however, Hungarian could be taught and it seemed that the woman knew it well enough to greet them.

The woman didn’t stand up or move from her relaxing spot. She, much alike many people Tom interacted with since moving in with Gellert, wore a robe. Except this robe was beyond recognition of what a robe constituted. It had windmills on it that turned and knights charging at them from her sleeves. She was barefooted and wiggling her toes curiously at them both.

Tom didn’t shout out ‘hello’ like everyone seemed to be doing. He stuck to Gellert and watched this woman wave about her hands in a welcoming fashion. She didn’t resemble Bathilda (Tom had tried calling her Great-great Aunt and she’d told him off that she wasn’t that great to begin with and refused the title) nor did she resemble Mrs. Cole. She lacked both of their meanness and anger.

Ariana looked at Tom keenly and he felt like a fish out of water being regarded so delicately and intensely, like some sort of prized show-pony. His magic curled inwardly like tendrils of shadow that only those that carefully watched could notice. Her hair was let loose to cascade down her shoulders in an entanglement of red curls that, too, buzzed with magic. ‘’Do you know how to knit?’’ Ariana asked seriously, as if the answer itself would provide a factual way to obtain world peace.

Surprised, Tom shook his head ‘no’.

She offered him a seat next to her and asked him if he’d like to learn.

‘’What good will it do me when we can just make things out of magic?’’ Tom, much alike many children, asked very important and smart questions.

Ariana gestured to Gellert and he was already fetching them the knitting supplies without a word. When Gellert came out of the home he came out with a grumbling Albus Dumbledore that balked at the sight of his sister and student talking amicably between each other.

Once armed with their needles, Gellert ushered Albus away before he could say anything impulsive like he had a tendency to do.

‘’Well,’’ Ariana smiled and went about teaching her best friend’s son how to knit, ‘’sometimes magic can be dangerous and fickle. In these times it’s best to let it rest and not bother it. Even magic needs to sleep. Don’t you sleep?’’

Tom nodded gravely. Yes, he slept.

‘’Good.’’ Ariana said with a twinkle in her eyes that could never be compared to Albus Dumbledore’s twinkles. His were all staged whereas Ariana’s were genuine.

Step by step Ariana taught Tom how to knit, careful to be patient and mindful to be calm. He was a prodigal student and his restless magic simmered down. There was a world of wariness settled on this boy’s shoulders. Ariana knew it. Ariana remembered it. Her magic danced around them and Tom’s awoke quickly, alert.

‘’Would you like to learn a more complicated pattern?’’ Ariana made knitting sound like the most fascinating piece of magic Tom had ever heard of. He shrugged and said that if they had time he would like to.

Glancing over to where Gellert was talking in heated tones with Albus told both of them that they had quite a lot of time on their hands.

‘’I’m going to teach you how to make a hat!’’ Hats were Ariana’s favourite. Tom smiled peculiarly at her enthusiasm.

* * *

That summer, Tom spent pouring over books Bathilda gave him (always forewarning him about handling books with care and if she caught him not doing so she would never let him near a book again) and dancing to Ariana’s enchanted record player while she taught him the waltz that was no proper waltz he’d ever seen purebloods dancing.

Gellert scrunched up his face at the display of joyful play in front of him and went to say something to Ariana, but then he heard Tom laugh and had to stop and think if he had ever heard him laugh until that point.

He hadn’t, so he said nothing.

* * *

Tom spoke more often with Gellert and it was once during breakfast where Bathilda was scowling at unedited papers written in 11th century scrawl that he asked, quite bluntly: ‘’Could you teach me Hungarian?’’

Bathilda tuned her ears to listen to the conversation all while pretending she was engrossed in her reading material.

‘’Of course.’’ Gellert said. Tom had never shown an interest before and he wasn’t of the sort to force the boy into anything against his will. ‘’What brought this on?’’

‘’I should know it if I’m your heir?’’

‘’You do not _have to_ know it.’’ Gellert omits how his family would send him strongly worded letters in Hungarian detailing how ashamed they were to find out that not only was he forsaking their blood and heritage in favour of some British child, but that he wouldn’t even teach him the language of their culture.

Bathilda hummed judgmentally when Gellert stressed that if Tom wanted to learn it should be because he so desired, not because of anyone’s pressure.

‘’Yes, but I want to. Ariana and you make it sound like it’s the bee’s knees.’’

_‘’The what now?’’_ Bathilda forgot herself and joined the conversation solely to find out more about this weird, youthful slang. She was hip for a woman in her 100s, you see. She quite enjoyed speaking the lingo of the present. Even if it came from the East End of London.

Gellert didn’t say anything when his aunt spoke these odd rhymes his ward taught her. It seemed like too much work.

* * *

He sat down with Tom and taught him the alphabet of Hungarian and if Tom asked him some stories from his childhood and home country, Gellert told him only the kind ones he remembered.

When they went to see Ariana again it was Tom, bright and shining and full of new knowledge that shouted: ‘’Szia!’’

Gellert looked at the child with fondness. The he remembered that this was no ordinary child – rather that this was _his_ child. The man had to stop for a moment and think about his life-choices.

Spots slithered over to him because Tom was too busy knitting a painfully bad piece of clothing to fully give the snake proper attention.

‘’What do you want, Spots?’’ Gellert knew enough about snakes that most of the time they came to you solely for food or a warm place to nap on.

Spots hissed and Gellert didn’t understand, but Tom laughed very, very hard – and Gellert figured it said something hilarious because Tom always listened to hisses, even if they were farther away than one would expect the boy to hear.

‘’What did he say?’’

‘’Nothing!’’

‘’Come on, Tom,’’ Gellert didn’t call him Son and Tom didn’t call him Dad aside from that one time in Diagon Alley when they wanted to pull the wool over Albus’ eyes.

Tom knit and knit and Ariana conducted the music with her fingers and her magic. It was lilting and amused. Not nearly as frightened and dangerous to be around as it was in her youth.

Spots hissed again and Tom snickered.

Gellert poked at Spots and whispered: ‘’You are not a nice snake.’’

Spots would have shrugged had the snake the necessary physiology to accomplish the task.

* * *

Tom knit a hat. It was terrible. He gave it as a gift to Albus Dumbledore on Gellert’s suggestion.

‘’If you think you can bribe me with hats –‘’ Albus was losing his edge the more time Tom spent over to Ariana’s and it showed because he couldn’t even finish his threat before accepting the mangled gift and stomping away.

Gellert and Albus still spoke in clipped tones that were sometimes even friendly, but those were rare times.

Tom brought over his pet snake (named Spots because snakes named themselves and Tom had no say in the matter) and Aberforth (the middle child) made Tom promise him that that blasted thing was never going to get anywhere near his goats.

Ariana made sure that Tom’s last day of Summer Holiday was spent having fun. They walked through the forest and looked over plants for a herbarium to dry and use later for tea.

* * *

Tom Riddle did not go by himself to King’s Cross station like he had the previous year. He didn’t wear third-hand robes like the previous year. His trunk wasn’t dented in places and worn out like the previous year. When asked about his family name he didn’t say ‘wot?’ or ‘orphan’ and didn’t hear whispered back at him ‘mudblood’ like the previous year.

No, this year Tom Riddle went with his guardian, Gellert Grindelwald, who loved him dearly. This year he wore new robes that fit him correctly and actually had warming charms in place because Scotland was _cold_. This year he had a trunk that Ariana filled to the brim with yarn and leaves whereas Bathilda carefully placed scrolls to keep him occupied and mentally stimulated because in her humble opinion the only good thing about the Hogwarts curriculum was that they included her book. This year, when called a mudblood for having no magical family he said: ‘’I got adopted, you know. So stop calling me that filthy word or else I’ll call my aunt Bathilda Bagshot to sort you out.’’

‘’That lady that wrote the book?’’

‘’That’s the one.’’

‘’Wicked. She adopted you?’’

‘’Well, he great-nephew Gellert Grindelwald did, but we live with her.’’

Nods all around. This all sounded very reasonable.

Abraxas Malfoy rubbed his hands together and whispered: ‘’Tell them what you wrote me, Riddle.’’ Riddle he remained, solely because the paperwork would be too tedious to change in the wizarding world.

Curiosity piqued, all of the Slytherins that used to call him names clamour to hear.

‘’Professor Dumbledore lives in a house. I went there because my guardian knows him.’’

‘’No!’’

‘’Lies!’’

‘’Slander!’’

‘’Everyone knows that professors live in their classrooms and only sporadically appear in the Great Hall to eat!’’

‘’Yes,’’ Tom nodded solemnly, ‘’I thought so, too.’’

**Author's Note:**

> As I get inspired I'll upload more to the series. Please tell me what you think :D


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